Chapter Twenty-one
WILLA STOOD FROZENin the doorway. She recognized the man right away—he was the one who’d assaulted her outside, demanding the money he’d paid for the Miracle Elixir. The one Nick had pulled back and sent on his way.
But he’d returned, this time with a weapon, and there was no one here to rescue her now.
She opened her mouth, the scream building somewhere deep down. The man shook the gun at her.
“Don’t you make a sound. All I want is my money and a word with that doctor, and I’ll be on my way.” He took a step forward, forcing her to move back into Papa’s room and shutting the door behind him. “Put on the lights. I don’t want any surprises.”
With shaking fingers, Willa finally managed to turn on the electric lights. To her relief, she saw that she’d remembered to shut the case on the desk, hiding Papa’s money.
With the room illuminated, the man looked about him. He was sober now, and while his clothing was still shabby, he’d cleaned up. “Wake him.” He nodded toward Papa.
Willa swallowed the fear that had bloomed inside. “Please, he’s ill. I have some coins in my reticule. I can give you your money back.”
The man nodded, and Willa reached for the small bag she’d dropped on the chair when she’d entered the room earlier. She withdrew just enough money—all she had left—and held it out to him. He took it, and then looked at her greedily.
“Seems I ought to be compensated for waiting. If you’d just given me a refund the other day, I wouldn’t have needed to go to all this trouble.” With that, he snatched the reticule from her and dug a hand inside. “There ain’t anything else in here,” he said, letting her handkerchief fall to the floor. “Where do you keep the rest of it?”
“The rest of what?” Willa could hear her heart thumping in her ears.
“Your money. You folks surely got more than that. What’s in that case?”
Willa moved to the right, blocking his view of the case. “You said you only wanted a refund. Please, my father is very ill. If you remain here, you may find yourself falling sick too.” She prayed her words would work and send this horrible man away.
His eyes went to Papa, and then to the half-full elixir bottle on the night table. “That elixir ain’t going to save him.”
He was right. And as much as Willa had hoped to go back to a time when her father was the man she thought he was, she couldn’t. “I know,” she said quietly.
The man’s face went stony as he looked at Papa. “Wake him.”
“No, please. I gave you what you wanted. Please leave us be.” Willa moved toward her father’s side, desperate to get between him and the man with the gun. It didn’t matter if their name was Rogers or that her father wasn’t truly a doctor. He was still her father, and she loved him despite all he’d done.
“I want a word with him. Now.” The man’s voice lowered and he held the revolver out steadily in front of him.
Willa swallowed hard. She reached back and gently shook Papa’s shoulder. “Papa.”
He woke slowly, his eyes blinking as if he’d been asleep the entire day. And he had, for the most part. “Willa?”
If there hadn’t been an irate man standing beside her with a gun, Willa’s heart would have soared at his recognition of her. He felt cooler than he had earlier. Perhaps the fever had broken.
“Dr. Rousseau, I’m Edgar Johnson.” The man stepped forward, and Willa slid back along the bed to move away from him but still remain close enough she could protect Papa if she needed to. Of course, how she’d do that, she didn’t know.
“Mr. Johnson.” Papa’s voice was raspy, but he was coherent. And as his eyes took in the revolver aimed at him, he remained calm. “Willa, could you help me sit up? If that’s all right with Mr. Johnson, that is.”
